


How Best to Erase You?

by Arwriter



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can be platonic or romantic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25435189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: Something isn't right, and Virgil doesn't know what he's done wrong.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 14
Kudos: 274





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back with more Virgil content because quarantine vibes

Virgil had absolutely no idea what time it was when he woke up, dark curtains closed tight to block out any light, head still fuzzy with lingering sleep. It  _ felt  _ like morning, and he had the sense he might have overslept. 

That being said, it was still definitely  _ much  _ earlier than he would have gotten up without Logan’s recent assistance in attempting to fix his sleep schedule. 

He couldn’t find his phone to double check the time, shaking out his sheets and blankets and searching through his hoodie pockets before realizing he must have left it on the couch last night. He’d been so out of it, he didn’t even remember heading to bed. 

Virgil tugged on his hoodie, running his hands through his hair until it was somewhat presentable before slipping outside and shuffling down the hall, not bothering to conceal a yawn as he made his way downstairs. 

He could already hear the others in the kitchen as he descended the staircase, smiling softly to himself as he listened to their usual bickering, the smell of coffee and bacon wafting through the morning air. 

The kitchen was the usual sight he’d quickly grown accustomed to seeing every morning, the other three just beginning to start breakfast at the table, all smiles and laughs as they bantered and joked. 

Virgil was often the last one awake thanks to his less than perfect sleep schedule, and Patton would always greet him with a smile and a hug, Roman sending a bright greeting his way, Logan quickly finding a way to include him in whatever discussion they were having. 

But today, things were different. 

As soon as Virgil stepped into the kitchen, making his way towards the coffee pot, all conversation came to an abrupt halt. 

He hesitated by the counter, fighting the urge to pull up his hood when he noticed they were all watching him, silent, something unreadable in their gaze. They looked...surprised. 

No, tense. Tense and wary, like they hadn’t expected his arrival. 

Shit, had he forgotten something? Had he done something wrong? Jesus, it was so early he couldn’t even remember what day it was yet. 

“Uh, good morning,” he tried, frowning when the others only glanced at each other, their frowns deepening. “Guys? Is...is everything ok?” 

Patton was the first to break the silence, visibly uneasy, his smile clearly forced. “No! Nothing’s wrong, kiddo we just, uh...well, we weren’t expecting to see you down here!” 

“You weren’t...Pat, it’s breakfast. I’m down here every day.”

Roman scoffed from his seat at the table, not even attempting to hide his glare, and Virgil’s stomach twisted, worry quickly turning to panicked dread. 

He’d been awake five minutes and they’d all been  _ fine  _ the night before, cuddled up on the couch for their usual movie night. What the hell had he done? 

And then Logan cleared his throat, and Virgil’s whole world came crashing down. 

“Is there something we can do for you, Anxiety?” 

His voice was cold and distant, nothing like the warm affection Logan always showed him, the encouraging smiles he would offer whenever he saw even the slightest bit of progress Virgil was making. 

And his  _ name.  _

“Anx…” he trailed off, throat tight and cold, panic and confusion steadily building up in his chest. “Why’d you--guys what’s going  _ on?”  _

“We could ask you the same thing, Anxiety.” 

Virgil actually flinched hearing his title again, said so easily like he had never told them his name in the first place. They were looking at him like he was...like he was the bad guy again. 

“Why are you  _ calling  _ me that?” 

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at the others like this was all some inside joke. Some horrible, cruel inside joke that Virgil was not allowed to be a part of. 

“That’s your name, is it not?” 

“It’s  _ not.”  _ Anxiety was a villain. Anxiety was hated, unwanted, left alone in his room and content with isolation, kept away from a family he’d waited so long for. “My--my name is--” 

“Oh,  _ please.”  _ When Roman spoke, it was almost a growl, the prince having stood up from his seat at the table. “Whatever game you’re trying to play,  _ Anxiety,  _ we want no part in it.” 

This was a joke, right? It had to be. All this time...he thought they would be above this. They should know better. 

But...but maybe he’d done something wrong. Maybe this was just some obscure punishment and as soon as he figured out what he’d done and made it right everything would go back to normal.

But what had he done? It wasn’t much of a stretch to think he’d fucked  _ something _ up, that was what he tended to  _ do _ , but he was usually able to pinpoint what had gone wrong. 

“Anxiety,” Patton said, and somehow hearing him say it, hearing the first side to ever treat him well, to show even a hint of acceptance, was so  _ so  _ much worse. “I think it’s best if you leave now, kiddo.” 

It wasn’t curel, Virgil wasn’t sure Patton was even capable of being cruel, but it was such a distinct difference from his usually bright tone, dark eyes now void of any usual love or admiration. 

“Guys, this--this isn’t funny.” His voice was shaking, but he didn’t even care, glancing around the kitchen, desperately hoping one of them would see how much this  _ hurt  _ and drop the act. “What’s going on? Pat, what did I  _ do?”  _

He reached for the moral side, but apparently that was the wrong thing to do, his heart sinking impossibly further when Patton didn’t even try to hide his look of horror. 

Virgil’s head was spinning so fast he barely registered the next few seconds, everything happening all at once in a rushed blur. 

Patton jumped back to avoid the touch, his fear and disgust like a punch to the gut, and in the same moment there was a hand around his arm, yanking him back so fast Virgil thought he heard his shoulder pop. 

_ “Don’t  _ touch him, you beast.” 

_ Beast.  _

He’d been called that once before, so long ago it hadn’t crossed his mind in months, back when he’d been nothing more than an antagonist, when Roman had never even thought to make an effort to show him anything but hate. 

Things were supposed to be different now. They  _ had _ been for a long time. He was family. He was understood. He and Roman were...they were close. They were friends. More than that, even. 

But now, the prince looking down on him was almost unrecognizable, face twisted in dark, protective fury, looking at Virgil like he was no more than an inconvenience. Something that needed to be taken down.

Like all the progress they made had been erased overnight. 

“Roman--” 

He didn’t even get a chance to finish before Princey was slamming him into the nearest wall, ignoring the cry of pain Virgil couldn’t hold back. 

Roman didn’t have his sword, but as the creative side’s hand pressed up against his throat as a means to keep him still, Virgil thought he might prefer the weapon. 

“He’s right, though, Anxiety,” Roman announced, and Virgil’s eyes widened when the hand tightened around his neck. “It’s time for you to leave. And with any luck, this time you won’t come back.” 

Virgil barely had time to glance over the Prince’s shoulder, to see Logan and Patton leave the room, seemingly unbothered, before Roman’s fingers were digging into his throat, eyes blank and cold. 

_ “Ro--”  _

Roman just squeezed tighter, almost looking annoyed when Virgil began clawing desperately at his hands, thrashing and pulling, tears running freely down his face. He heard a door slam shut, the others leaving him alone. 

“You know, Anxiety,” Roman said casually, like he wasn’t squeezing the life out of a fellow side. “You really can’t take a hint, can you? We don’t  _ want  _ you here. But you keep coming  _ back.  _ You keep making our lives  _ miserable,  _ you’ve  _ ruined  _ Thomas, and you  _ still _ think we could ever love you?” 

Virgil tried to apologize, tried to sink back down to his room, tried to beg Roman to let him go, to explain, to tell him what he did  _ wrong,  _ but he couldn’t get a single word out, Roman’s grip like iron, digging into his skin so tight Virgil thought he heard something  _ snap.  _

He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

Oh god, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t--Roman was  _ killing  _ him and he didn’t  _ care.  _

Maybe he hadn’t even done anything wrong. Maybe this had been what they wanted all along, for him to feel safe and wanted so that when the rug was pulled out from under him, when it was easier to get rid of him for good, it only hurt more. 

They hated him. He ruined their lives. They wanted him to  _ suffer.  _

He couldn’t even concentrate enough to escape to Thomas, the last lifeline that could possibly help him. Then again, why wouldn’t Thomas be just as eager to get rid of his anxiety? 

They’d said they needed him. They  _ lied, they lied they, lied.  _

Virgil didn’t remember moving, but he thought he was on the floor now, the world tilting and darkening and he struggled and screamed silently, lungs begging for air he couldn’t get. 

Dark clouds of fog were blurring what little vision he had left, cruel voices and threats dancing around his ringing ears as everything faded in a haze of pain and fear. 

He needed to sink out. He needed to sink out  _ now,  _ he needed to duck out and lock himself away in his room where they couldn’t get to him, where he could forget all the lies they ever fed him. 

He couldn’t see Roman anymore, couldn’t see the cold glares of his family, but he could still feel the hand against his neck, nails digging into his throat, holding down and  _ squeezing until-- _

_ “Virgil!”  _


	2. Chapter 2

His eyes snapped open and just like that, all the air was rushing back into his lungs, the grip against his skin gone. 

Virgil’s hands flew to his throat as he struggled to get his bearings, gasping and coughing, teeth chattering as he trembled violently. 

His vision was gradually starting to clear, still obscured by stray tears, revealing his familiar sheets and blankets strewn across his legs, his pillow resting under his head. He was in his own room, in his own bed. 

Had he managed to sink out? He couldn’t remember--

A knock at the door had him scrambling to sit up, heart racing in his chest, the voice calling from the other side more than enough to send him further into blind panic. 

“Did you hear me, Doctor Gloom?” 

It was Roman. Of course, Roman would know where Virgil would run to, and the prince had never been one to leave a job unfinished. 

“You in there? Don’t make me break the door down, you  _ know  _ I will.” 

Virgil froze, hands fisted absently in his sheets, squeezing so tight he thought his nails might break through the cloth. He couldn’t quite pinpoint Roman’s tone, head still fuzzy and pounding, but it couldn’t be anything good. 

Maybe, if he stayed exactly where he was and didn’t make a sound, Roman would leave him be. He could stay in here, isolated, if that was what they wanted. He’d never bother them again, no matter how much it hurt. 

But then the door was creaking open and Roman was peering inside, his eyes instantly meeting Virgil’s. 

“Ah, so you  _ are  _ awake!” He pushed open the door the rest of the way, grinning in the doorway. “Why didn’t you...Virgil?” 

Roman took a step forward and suddenly Virgil couldn’t breathe again, all he could feel were fingers against his throat, all he could see were the empty, unfeeling eyes of the people he loved more than anything. 

“Virgil?” Roman called, but everything sounded like it was underwater, muddled and distant. “Is everything alright?” 

He took a few steps towards the bed and Virgil was already frantically scrambling backwards to get away, nearly falling to the floor in his panic, shaking so badly it was nearly impossible to coordinate his own body. 

Roman was too close, legs brushing the edge of the bed, and if he decided to finish what he started, Virgil wasn’t in any condition to fight back. 

“Please-- _ please,”  _ he tried instead, taking advantage of his temporary ability to speak freely. “I-I’ll leave--I’ll leave you al-alone I promise, Roman, I  _ promise  _ just please don’t hurt me I can’t--” 

“Hurt you?” Roman echoed, Virgil wincing at the sudden volume of his voice. “Why would I--?” 

He reached forward, and Virgil flinched back so fast he  _ did  _ fall off the bed this time. His back hit the floor with a hollow thud, and he quickly worked on getting so much space between him and Roman as possible, scrambling back until he found the wall. 

Roman hadn’t moved from where he stood by the bed, still blocking the path to the bedroom door- his only escape- and Virgil felt a new wave of dread rise in his throat. 

He was cornered. 

“Y-you don’t...you don’t have to…” It was getting harder and harder to talk, impossible to convey a convincing argument to Roman, who had likely already made up his mind. 

He risked a glance up, quickly looking away again when he saw a look of horror cross over Princey’s face. It was the same look on Patton when Virgil had tried to reach for him. 

“Hey, it’s ok.” Roman slowly lowered himself to a crouch, and Virgil watched him warily, waiting for any sudden movements. “Can you tell me why you think I’m going to hurt you?” 

“Y-you said--you said you w-want--you tried to-to--” It was impossible to form a coherent thought at this point, let alone a decipherable sentence. “I-Ill stop, I’ll stop I swear, I know you d-don’t--” 

It took him a moment to realize that Roman was shushing him gently, hands outstretched but not touching, expression pained and almost confused. 

Virgil pressed himself further back against the wall, still not trusting himself to look away from the prince. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” 

“No, no, it’s ok.” Roman hadn’t moved from his crouch, and in a way he almost looked just as terrified as Virgil. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” 

Virgil shook his head, racing thoughts refusing to subside, muddled mind unable to grasp onto the reality of what Roman was telling him. “You...you tried to--” 

“No I didn’t,” Prince said, and it was impossible to ignore the desperation in his voice. “I know you’re not...entirely here right now, but listen to me, ok? You’re safe. It was a dream. I would never hurt you, and I won’t  _ let  _ anyone hurt you. It was a dream, just a bad dream, Virgil.” 

He was lying. It was a trap, a trick, they wanted him to feel safe again, to feel wanted, and then they would turn around and hate him,  _ hurt him-- _

But...but Roman was close enough to grab him if he wanted, and he hadn’t even attempted to feign kindness in the kitchen before he’d…

“Virgil?” 

And something else clicked in his brain, some form of rational thought forcing its way back into him, small and hopeful, voicing itself in a breathy whisper. “You...you know my name.” 

Roman gave a small smile and slowly turned his hand until his palm was facing upwards, offering it to Virgil. “I do. I know you, Virgil. You’re family, and you’re safe with me. I promise you were just having a nightmare.” 

_ Just a nightmare.  _ He looked so sincere, so hopeful, hand hovering just a few inches from Virgil’s own, refusing to close the distance without permission. 

And this...this couldn’t be a trick. Princey wouldn’t say these things if he didn’t mean them. He wouldn’t be this cruel. Not after everything. 

Slowly, still fighting against the nagging voices of panic and blaring alarms in the back of his head, Virgil reached out a trembling hand and carefully placed it in the Prince's outstretched palm. 

Roman closed his fingers around his hand, but it was slow and gentle, loose enough that Virgil felt he could easily pull away if he needed to. 

“There you go,” Roman said softly. “Do you think you can try to copy my breathing? I asked Logan to teach me some of your breathing exercises a few weeks ago.” 

Through the remaining haze, Virgil felt warmth settle in his chest, a stark difference to the frigid fear still encompassing him. 

It was a slow process, but Princey was patient, breaths slow and exaggerated as he talked Virgil through the pacing, muttering genuine praise and reassurances throughout. 

It was only a few moments later when Virgil had got his breathing back to something normal, his shivering having gone down a little bit, that reality began to take a much clearer shape, and his face burned with the realization of how  _ stupid  _ he’d been. 

“Oh, god.” His first instinct was to pull away and hide, but at the sound of his distress Roman squeezed his hand, and Virgil held on just as tight in response. “Roman I’m...I’m so sorry, I--I know you wouldn’t--” 

“It’s quite alright,” Roman said, voice still uncharacteristically soft. “Really. There’s no shame in being affected by a bad dream. Besides, you were exhausted last night.” 

As everything came back to him, his head slowly clearing, the last few days returned as well, the sleepless nights of stress and worrying and the long days of work and panic to stay on top of the week’s demanding schedule. 

They’d all settled down for a movie last night when it was finally done, and Virgil couldn’t even recall falling asleep. Someone must have helped him to his own bed after he’d passed out on the couch. 

“What time is it?” 

“Around eleven,” Roman said. “Patton wanted to let you sleep in and asked me to come check up on you. It seems my timing was...not ideal.” 

He smiled sheepishly and Virgil shook his head, refusing to let the other side feel any guilt over his own stupid nightmare. 

“I’m really sorry,” he mumbled. “For freaking out on you like that.” 

Neither of them made any move to get up, Virgil’s gaze dropping to the floor, relaxing slightly despite the lingering shivers when Roman ran his thumb along the anxious side’s knuckles. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asked suddenly, and Virgil had to force himself not to recoil at the thought. “It could help. It’s what I do whenever I have a particularly bad dream.” 

Virgil shrugged, wondering if Prince would change his attitude when he learned just what the dream had been about. “It’s stupid.” 

“Anything that causes you distress can’t be stupid!  _ And  _ I promise not to judge. Of course I won’t...I won’t force you if you don’t want to but...it could help.” 

Virgil was silent, still staring stubbornly at his feet, free hand picking absently at his t-shirt. He wished he'd worn his hoodie to bed, missing the familiar warmth. 

Roman said he wouldn’t judge. And he wouldn’t be angry, either. He’d understand. 

“It was, uh, it was you guys,” Virgil started. “At breakfast. And I thought...I thought everything was fine but then you all--all went back to...to how it used to be. When...when you ha-hated me.” 

It was growing harder and harder to hold back tears against the vivid memories, both from the dream and the past, risking a glance up to meet Roman’s worried stare. 

“What did we do?” 

Virgil shrugged again, knowing his attempt to feign nonchalance was failing miserably. “Just. You know. Said you all never really uh, wanted me around. At all. And you didn’t...know my name. Again. And Patton, uh...Patton was  _ scared  _ of me.” 

Looking back on it, that had almost been the worst part of the whole ordeal. That the side who had been the kindest to him from the beginning, that had made him feel some spark of hope whenever the loneliness was too much, still just saw him as the bad guy. A cruel, mindless villain. 

“And I assume,” Roman said. “That I...in the dream, of course...I hurt you. Or tried to, anyway.” 

God, it was so  _ stupid.  _ He’d been terrified of  _ Roman _ , the side who was currently sitting on his bedroom floor holding his hand while he talked through a nightmare. 

“Yeah,” he said, not trusting himself to come up with a convincing lie. “You, uh, you were protecting Patton I guess and you...you tried to...you know…”

He didn’t know how to say it aloud, painfully aware of Princey’s eyes on him, instead lifting his free hand to rub at his throat, the skin of course free of any marks or bruises, hoping it would be enough. 

“I don’t... _ oh.”  _ Apparently, it was. 

Virgil flinched at the small gasp and hint of disbelief in his voice, the full reality of how utterly ridiculous this whole thing was. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, at a loss of what else he could do. “I...Roman, I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid and I shouldn’t--” 

“No, no, it’s alright, my Dark Knight.” The nickname was fond, familiar, and Virgil felt himself leaning into the prince’s warmth. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wish I’d come to your rescue sooner.” 

“It’s fine, Princey. Just a dumb dream.” 

“You know that, right?” Roman asked, and Virgil frowned up at him. “That it  _ was _ just a nightmare. None of us...none of those things are true. We love you so,  _ so  _ much, Virge. We  _ do  _ want you here. You know that, right?” 

And Virgil did. He  _ did.  _ Even as the fear still nagged at him, the doubts and thoughts still creeping up after all this time of being a part of their family. It had gotten so much better but...sometimes…

“Yeah,” he said, pushing it all back down. “I do.” 

The silence fell again, heavier this time, and if it wasn’t for Roman’s anxious shifting beside him, the way his eyes wandered and his jaw clenched in anticipation, Virgil would have thought the conversation was over. 

“I have to ask,” Roman said after a moment, and Virgil’s heart began to race again when he sounded almost nervous. “If...if I’ve done anything, recently I mean, to, ah, to make you feel alarmed or...or unsafe, I swear it was never my intent--” 

_ “No,  _ Roman.” He was too exhausted to be considered firm, but Princey fell silent anyway and Virgil bit back a sigh. He couldn’t let Roman feel guilty for his own stupid brain being a bit more overactive than usual. “It’s not that. I swear.” 

“Oh. Well...that’s good.” 

“Besides,” Virgil added, managing a small smirk. “You’re really not that intimidating.” 

It earned a mock gasp from Roman, the easy banter releasing some of the tension in the room, the prince thankfully sparing him from any rants about his “daring quests to save damsels in distress.” Virgil really didn't need any more reminders of Roman’s tendency to bring down villains. 

Maybe it was because he was tired and not exactly thinking straight, or maybe it was because things were already sitting out in the open and he so desperately wanted Roman to understand, but he was speaking again without really meaning to. 

Any other day, he wouldn’t be sure where to even begin with voicing something like this. 

“I don’t think...it’s not that I’m scared of you,” he started, avoiding Roman’s curious gaze. “It-it’s more that I’m scared of...of losing you, you know? I mean, obviously I’m terrified of losing  _ any  _ of you, that’s just...how I am. I just...I just feel like if anyone was going to hate me again, it’d be you.” 

Roman was silent, unmoving, and suddenly Virgil’s words were replaying in his head, panic once again seizing in his chest. 

“Not because--shit, that sounded bad, I...I didn’t mean like that I meant...I-I know I’m a lot. And you all say I’m getting better but...I mess things up. I’m...I’m Anxiety, that’s what I  _ do.  _ And I remember how-how hard it was for us to get along. I know it isn’t like that now, I  _ know  _ that. It just...yeah.” 

He sighed, risked a glance up at the other side who was still staring like a kicked puppy, before dropping his gaze back to the floor.

“I worry about it,” he added softly. “I know I’ll never be able to be perfect. There’s...there’s a lot to deal with. But I don’t know what I’d do if you ever decided you didn’t--” 

He didn’t get to finish because suddenly there were strong arms around him, carefully pulling him from the wall, and for half a second Virgil’s fight or flight response took over, telling him he was being attacked again, that someone was trying to  _ hurt him--  _

But it passed almost instantly when he fell against Roman’s chest, strong and warm and  _ safe,  _ his arms wrapping around Virgil’s back to protect rather than trap. 

“Is this ok?” Roman asked, sounding painfully unsure. “Sorry, I should have asked before--” 

“It’s good,” Virgil said, closing his eyes when his voice wavered at the end. “You’re good, Roman.”

The prince tightened his hold a bit, leaning forward to rest his head atop Virgil’s, and the anxious side melted into the embrace without question, listening to Roman’s steady heartbeat, breathing in the familiar scent. 

“I treated you rather horribly, didn’t I?” Roman said after a moment, and Virgil froze when he felt the other side’s breath hitch. “You-you were isolated for so long and I never thought to even give you a chance.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it was nearly impossible to move in the position they’d ended up in. “I wasn’t exactly the most welcoming person.” 

“But that wasn’t you. Not...not really. I  _ know  _ you, Virge. You aren’t a villain, and you never were. You’re our protector. You’re everything that we need, and I would never dream of doing anything to drive you away again. I swear to you, you will never be alone again.” 

And...wow _.  _ He’d known that. Really, he had. He knew they loved him, knew they wanted him. He saw it in everything they did, every smile, every encouraging word, every effort to include him, to treat him like an equal. 

But hearing it said aloud by Roman, his love so plainly laid out with so much raw, genuine emotion was...just... _ wow.  _

Roman pulled back, just enough to meet Virgil’s gaze, a sad yet hopeful smile on his lips. Virgil didn’t even have to think about returning it. 

“None of us are perfect, Virge,” Roman said. “Nobody is. But if it means anything, I think you’re amazing.” 

And that, Virgil thought, meant more than Princey probably realized. Or, perhaps he did. Roman seemed to know a lot more than anybody gave him credit for. 

“Thank you,” Virgil said earnestly. “And...and you are too. Amazing, I mean. Really.” 

He was much less eloquent than the creative side, but for now he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t yet gotten a chance to properly wake up. 

But Roman’s smile brightened, eyes brimming with something akin to pride, and Virgil decided he’d do anything to see that look directed at him again. 

“Are you up for seeing the others?” Roman asked, loosening his hold a bit. “We’ve all missed you today.”

Virgil ignored the tiny bit of fear that lingered in the back of his head, the nagging reminder of the cold stares and distrust in his dream, instead nodding and taking the Prince’s hand again, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. 

Roman grabbed Virgil's hoodie from the end of the bed without being asked, and the anxious side gratefully slipped into the familiar comfort of the cloth. 

He could already hear Patton and Logan talking amongst themselves by the time they reached the top of the stairs, and Virgil found himself instinctually copying Roman’s steady breathing. If the prince noticed, he didn’t say anything, just squeezed Virgil’s hand and led him into the living room. 

“Look who I found!”

Any uneasiness vanished the moment Patton glanced up, positively beaming at the sight of the two sides, making insistent grabby hands until Virgil was moving towards the couch, the moral side’s arms open and waiting for a hug. 

He didn’t miss the worried glance Patton threw Roman’s way, but it was filled only with honest concern and innocent questions. Virgil could only imagine how awful he looked, eyes still red and stinging with dried tears, exhausted and disheveled from his restless sleep. 

“Good morning, kiddo,” Patton said warmly, gathering Virgil into his arms and guiding him onto the couch. His hands gently carded through Virgil’s hair when the anxious side held on a bit tighter than usual.

“Glad you’re awake, Virgil,” Logan said from the armchair. “I’ve prescribed us a day of rest to recover from our rather intense week, but of course we wanted your input before deciding on any activities.” 

“You know,” Roman said, sending Virgil a wink as he settled on the other end of the couch. “People don’t usually need to  _ plan  _ a day of relaxation.” 

Logan frowned. “I need to ensure that all of our stress levels drop to optimal levels for--” 

“You  _ know  _ we’re just going to end up having a Disney marathon.” 

“Roman we just had a Disney marathon last month.” 

Roman gasped, fighting against his obvious grin and putting a hand to his chest, leaping to his feet. “You can  _ never  _ have enough Disney marathons!”

The two kept up their bickering--not fighting, Virgil knew, the tone too light and the smiles too poorly hidden, and Patton reached over to squeeze his hand. 

“Hey,” he said in a nearly inaudible whisper, meant for Virgil’s ears only. “You alright, kiddo?” 

Virgil looked up at Patton, at the warm adoration shining in his eyes, warmth sparking to life in his chest as he glanced to the other two, the four of them content and safe in each other’s company, working every day to be better. 

And they were helping each other. All of them. They weren’t perfect, but Roman was right. They were all pretty damn amazing. 

“Yeah,” he said, meaning it more than he knew how to explain. “I’m good, Pat.” 


End file.
